


Distractions

by ColdAngels



Category: House M.D.
Genre: I honestly have no clue what to put as a summary lol sorry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-05-14 20:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14776383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColdAngels/pseuds/ColdAngels
Summary: Noun. A thing that prevents someone from concentrating on something else. Takes place somewhere in the middle of 'Detox'. Eventual Hilson.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Recently saw the show. Fell in love with Hilson. Got a fic idea. : )
> 
> Very loosely inspired by a fan-video I saw in the tag: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rTLiec5gbX0
> 
> This will most likely be the only House M.D fic I'll write. I'll upload 1 chapter a week. 
> 
> Warning if you're not into that type of thing: contains a lot of verbatim dialogue, but for the most part, it has my own + a mix from all episodes. Also there're mentions of the cases from 'Detox' and 'Whac A Mole'.

Wilson sighs quietly as he studies the x-rays, “I think it’s broken.” He turns to walk over to him and House looks up, “What did you do?”

House snorts. He’s cradling his damaged hand with his good one, “Accidentally closed a car door on it.”

Wilson shakes his head. He pulls up a seat and gently takes Houses hand to examine it, “No, door would have broken the skin. This looks like something hard and smooth smashed it.”

He lets go and House frowns, “I want my lawyer."

Wilson stands to grab some supplies from a drawer while House quietly watches, “ The brain has a gating mechanism for pain. Registers the most severe injury and blocks out the others.” He meets Houses eyes as he turns back to face him, “Did it work?”

“Well, my hand hurts like hell.” There’s a beat and House sees Wilsons face soften into concern. He glances at the floor, his voice lowering, “Yeah, I feel much better.” 

He feels Wilson sit down and hold his fingers again, and he fights down a hiss as his gaze goes to the ceiling. At least he can’t feel the pain in his leg anymore. Well, he can. It’s just a dull ache now. 

Before Wilson can start working on it, he looks at him one more time and he’s not surprised to see he still has that puppy dog look in his eyes, “Don’t splint it. I want to be able to bang it against the wall if I need to administer another dose.” A tense silence follows and it’s then that House gets the idea of how seriously Wilson’s taking this. He can practically feel the guy burning a hole in his head.

A sigh escapes him and he finally just...caves, “Just...tape it up.”

Wilson pauses a moment, but moves slightly forward and begins unravelling the tape. House swallows as he keeps his gaze on his hand, taking in how careful Wilson’s being with him - funny, he thought he’d at least  _ try _ to make it as tight as possible, especially from how much of an ass he’s been about this. But no, he’s treating him like he would a patient…

Hm.

The seconds tick on, and House shifts on the table when he feels an uncomfortable air fall around him. He looks at Wilsons face, how focused he is on patching him up, and he clears his throat, “Sorry for being an ass before.”

Wilson winds the tape around his fingers twice before replying, “Since when do you apologise for your behaviour?”

“I didn’t realise how much you cared about my well-being.”

“Yeah, well, someone has to.”

House raises a brow, “I thought that someone was Cameron.”

“She cares about everyone.” 

“So you’re caring about me is different? How?”

Wilson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and House thinks he’s done with the small talk, but he’s surprised when he hears him voice only a few words back,

“Because you’re my friend.” 

_ Oh. Right. _

“Cameron’s my friend.”

Wilson fights a smile off his face, “No she isn’t. You know how she feels about you.” 

House opens his mouth to reply, but Wilson’s already sticking the last part of the tape down. He brings his hand to eye-level as Wilson gathers everything to put back, and smirks when he’s able to wiggle his fingers.

He suddenly jerks it back with a gasp, and a hot pain goes through his leg. He lowers his head and closes his eyes, cradling his hand again as he waits for it all to gradually subside. Letting out a shuddering breath, he opens them to see Wilsons feet apart, hands on hips. He doesn’t even need to look at his face to know he’s even more worried about him now.

“You sure you don’t want the splint? It won’t take that long.”

His voice has instantly lost its ‘professional doctor’ tone that it makes him laugh in disbelief. Maybe he really is an idiot for hurting himself like this, and he’s starting to wonder if asking for Dr. Wilson was a smart idea. He’s just been given the sad ‘i’m here for you’ eyes he gives all his patients the entire time. And he knows exactly what it’s like to treated by someone you’re close to. Isn’t always a good plan.

House stares at the floor, “Didn’t you hear what I said before?”

Wilsons forehead creases, “I thought you were kidding.” House goes quiet and he steps forward to take his hand again, but House snatches it away with a visible strain, “Seriously, House, this deal with Cuddy is ridiculous. You need Vicodin right now.”

Using his good hand, House makes to move off the table, but a glance at Wilson has him pause, “This isn’t your problem.” 

“No, I forgot this became my problem 20 years ago.” House rolls his eyes, which Wilson ignores. He shrugs with a drawn out sigh, “Look, if you won’t back down from...whatever you’re hoping to obtain from this, then maybe you just need another distraction.”

“I told you, I’m not letting you splint my hand.” 

Wilson takes a few steps towards him, “I had another idea in mind.”

House tries out his fingers again, huffing in frustration when more pain shoots across the back of his hand, “Not trying to be rude, but I’m not really in the mood for a quickie right now.”

A shock runs through him when he feels Wilson take his face and quickly kiss him on the mouth. It’s so sudden and….so  _ wet  _ that it leaves House stunned into silence. He just stares at him, but Wilson’s only looking back, his arms folded as if waiting for something, “Did that work?”

“I. . .” House’s throat has gone...dry for some reason, and with Wilsons eyes on him, turns to his bruised hand, that….doesn’t....hurt as much anymore. He tries out his leg, which...is the same. Of course they’re still in searing pain, but with what just happened, it’s a little difficult to focus solely on his damaged limbs. He looks up at Wilson in utter bewilderment and all he can do is nod. 

Wilson has a strange triumphant flush on his face, and he nods in confirmation, “Right. Okay, well, I…if you still want your hand splinted….” His voice trails off and he starts for the door, but before he can reach for the handle, Cuddy bursts in. 

“Excuse me, Dr. Wilson.”

House doesn’t even register for a moment that she’s in the room. His brain’s still fiercely trying to play catch up; he’s just staring dumbly at Wilson, who’s watching Cuddy begin to lay into a lost House. With her distracted, and not really caring for Houses mental state, Wilson steals his chance to leave, already knowing House is going to have a few choice questions for him later. 

* * *

 

Wilson tactfully avoids him the rest of the day. 

Luckily for him, House is swamped with figuring his new patients case out, so has had no time to track him down. He’s currently in his office, going through the file of a previous patient when there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in.” 

To his surprise, it’s Foreman, “Dr. Wilson, can I speak with you?” 

Wilson slowly closes the folder, “Sure, what’s up?”

“It’s about House.”

Wilson gestures for him to close the door, and he puts the folder away as Foreman sits in the chair across from him. He folds his hands together, “You know how he has this deal going on with Cuddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Well….he hasn’t been himself lately. He was fine this morning, but he’s just been really distracted, and I know it’s not from losing his med privileges.”

Wilson frowns. He hopes he has a good poker face on, “He hurt his hand this morning. Is it because of that?”

Foreman shakes his head with a smile, “I saw the tape on his fingers. Told me he got it stuck in a drawer.” 

Wilson nods in thought, pretending to ponder over the ordeal while Foreman pauses when something comes to him, “Do you know who did the patch job?”

“He asked me to, why?”

Foreman shrugs, “No reason, just...wondering if something happened between the time he got it fixed up to us discussing the case in his office.” He looks closely at Wilson, who’s trying so hard not to give anything away, “Did anything...go on when you were treating him? Did he say anything, do anything….?

“...No, he just left the room after Cuddy and Dr. Cameron talked to him.”

“You’re sure?”

Wilson snorts, beginning to smile, “What is this, 20 questions?”

“It’s just that...well, you know him better than anyone here. I would’ve thought he’d have told you something that’s been on his mind lately.”

"If there is, he hasn’t said anything to me.”

There’s a pause as they look at one another. Foreman’s studying him so intently that Wilson’s sure he has it all figured out, and he readies himself to tell him everything...until Foreman unclasps his hands and Wilson feels a relief wash over him when he gets up from the chair. 

“Alright. Sorry to bother you, Dr. Wilson.”

Wilson smiles briefly, but when the door shuts, he lets it fall and rubs a hand over his face, a heavy exhaustion suddenly taking a hold of him. He checks the clock to see it’s only hit 3pm and he leans back in his chair, wondering how House is getting on with his case.

He wonders what Cuddy and Cameron said to him. Cuddy was angry, that was obvious. Practically shouting at him so loudly the nurses could hear. And he’d passed Dr. Cameron on the way back to his office. Being in such a daze, he probably had no idea what they were saying to him. 

Hopefully he didn’t have any huge decisions to make on his patient afterwards.

Wilson closes his eyes a moment. He doesn’t want to think on that…

He’s over running this through his head. Putting his chair right, he reaches for the folder he’d been reading before Foreman came in and makes himself busy going over it incase House decides to make his announcement.

* * *

 

Night’s finally fallen when House barges into his office. 

Well, he doesn’t exactly barge in. He just opens the door in his abrupt way as if he has something important to declare, and Wilson glances up from scribbling down a few prescriptions for his patients to see House simply waltz in the room tossing his new Vicodin bottle in his good hand like he has a certain thing on his mind but he isn’t ready to start on it just yet. The light on Wilsons desk glows softly against the walls and coupled with the darkness outside, it makes for a slightly comforting ambience. 

Wilson gestures to him with his pen, “Heard you got punched today.”

House’s staring out the window as he answers him, the bottle still being thrown in the air, “Why, you want to kiss it better?”

Wilson shakes his head with a small smile as he continues, the joking tone gone, “Parent didn’t trust me. Usual story.” He puts the bottle back in his pocket and finally turns to him, “What  _ isn’t _ usual is what you did today.”

“Fix your hand?” He stops writing to give him his full attention, “How is it by the way?”

“I’m talking about you kissing me.” House rests his fingers atop his cane and almost peers at him, “Either you treat all your patients that way or I’m a ‘special case’. 

“Is there a third option?”

House frowns, “Should there be? Boy, I hadn’t even considered one.”

Wilson sighs, exasperated, “It was a distraction! Why do you need to treat everything like it’s a game?”

House points his cane at him, smiling broadly, “It  _ was _ an excuse, wasn’t it? Which means there  _ is _ a third option.” He scoffs, “You’re way too professional to not initiate physical contact with someone in the workplace unless you had an ulterior motive, and me being your best friend, well. That just makes it easier.” 

Wilson folds his arms, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? It could mean absolutely nothing, and you’d still try to find some way to make it have at least an ounce of subtext.” He makes a small gap with his fingers and Houses eyes narrow,

“Well, you’re not denying it.”

“I’m curious to know if this bet with Cuddy was worth it.” 

Houses mouth falls open, “You’re changing the subject! Clearly you don’t want to talk about this!”

Wilson sits up, “No, I just don’t see why you have to over-analyse something I did, which, as I said, was a  _ distraction _ .” 

“You want to know what  _ I _ think?”

“Be my guest. I’ve got all night apparently.”

“I think.” House starts towards his desk and puts his cane against the edge of it. Wilson watches as he puts on a high pitched, over excited voice, and pretends to hold up a trophy.  _ “You like me! Right now! You  _ **_like_ ** _ me!” _

“No, don’t tell me, I know this one.” Wilson plays up trying to figure it out, while House stares at him incredulously as he takes his cane back. When he snaps his fingers, House rolls his eyes, “Sally Field, Oscars Acceptance Speech 1985 for Places in the Heart.” 

“Just admit it, Wilson. You kissed me back there because you have a crush on me and you used the word ‘distraction’ as an excuse to plant one on me.” 

“Do you get a kick out of doing this? You can’t just... _ accept _ that it was actually a distraction?”

“No, I can’t accept that, because it isn’t true.” 

Wilson puts his hands on the desk, “Let me just play up your fantasy for a moment.” House goes over to the couch and throws himself on the cushion, along with his cane as he listens to Wilson rattle on in a mysterious voice. He knows this is going to take awhile, “Say I did kiss you because I like you, which I’m not agreeing or disagreeing with - “

“ - You’re quick to put that on the table - “

“ - I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it because I’m married and I love my wife.” 

“Yeah, I’ve heard of the illusion of truth too.” He scoffs, “And being married hasn’t stopped you before, so you can’t use  _ that _ excuse.” He picks up his cane and bangs it on the carpet as he pulls himself up, “I think you need to have a long talk with your wife.” 

Wilson watches him walk over with a stunned expression, “There’s nothing to talk about!”

House stops just a foot from his desk, “You don’t think you need to tell her about what you did today?”

“She never wants to hear about my day.”

“Ignoring the fact that your marriage is already so terrible that you can’t even talk about your day without being shunned…” Wilson makes a grab for his pen, already going back to filling out a new prescription, “I think she’ll want to hear about this. And make sure to mention that I’m your friend. Saying I’m a patient will definitely ring some alarm bells.”

Right as he finishes speaking, Wilson tears the paper off and holds it out to him, “Here’s a prescription for a new bottle of Vicodin if you’ll leave me alone.” 

House pouts, “But you’ve been alone all day!”

Wilson doesn’t even glance at him as he shakes the prescription in his hand, but House stays rooted to the spot. Realising he isn’t going to give in, Wilson draws away with a tired sigh, “What’ll it take for you to go home?”

“If you just admit that there was more to that kiss than you were letting on!”

Wilson laughs scornfully, “There’s nothing to admit! It was a distraction, that’s it!”

House looks at him for a long time, but Wilson doesn’t budge an inch, and finally the silence’s broken when House reaches in his pocket for a Vicodin. He pops it in his mouth before speaking, “You can’t lie to yourself forever.”

“Why not? You do it all the time.”

“Yeah, but I’m me. Soon the guilt will eat away at you until you have a breakdown over your quinoa salad and then you’ll have no choice but to tell all to Julie.”

“And you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

House dry swallows the pill, “Anything to help a friend ruin his already crappy marriage. Or save it. Take your pick.” 

Wilson points his pen at the door, “Night, House.”

“Do you want a goodnight kiss?” Wilson just stays silent and he nods in confirmation, “Fine. I’ll still take that prescription though.”

Wilson glances up, and when he sees House is serious, he takes the paper from his desk and passes it over. As their fingers brush, House seizes his opportunity and leans his body forward to kiss Wilsons forehead. Before Wilson can say a word, House is already leaving the office, stuffing the prescription in his other pocket and wearing a smile on his face, “Stop lying!” 


	2. Chapter 2

** Next Day **

Chase looks up from his notes, “We have two hours to figure this out. Either we restore the blood flow or he loses the eye.”

House picks up a stirrer from the coffee machine and puts it in his drink, beginning to move it around as he speaks, “Forget the eye. Tell him to use the other one to look on the bright side.” Cameron stares at him in disgust as he limps over to the table and takes a seat, “The clot could tell us something. It could help us figure out what he has, which could mean he gets to live.”

A short silence follows which’s broken when House tosses the stirrer in the bin. Before he can lift the cup to his lips, he suddenly realises that none of them have said anything and he glances at each of them with a frown, “Different diagnosis, people. How does internal bleeding suddenly start clotting?”

Chase puts a hand out in confusion, “It makes no sense, they’re opposing processes.”

Again, House tries to take a sip of his coffee, but he’s stopped when the door opens and Wilson walks in carrying a crossword book and pen. He doesn’t even look at any of them, just walks around the table, past House, where there’s an empty seat conveniently waiting for him. House’s so busy watching him pick up the pen and finish the puzzle like this’s normal that he almost misses what Cameron says.

“It can happen in lupus. Increased platelet count can cause blood clots.”

Wilson writes down a few letters but doesn’t look at her, “ANA was negative. It’s not lupus.”

Houses eyes narrow, the confusion in his head slowly growing as he watches Wilson purposefully ignore him, “What’re you doing here? I thought we ruled out cancer.”

When Wilson simply glances his way, his face completely betrays him, “I was lonely.”

House fights off a smug smile - it would just draw suspicion from the team - and makes a humming noise, like he knows exactly what Wilson’s doing, but tears his gaze from him to Chase…..who’s talking again.

“Most likely candidate for throwing a clot is infection or cancer.”

Wilson replies instantly, finishing a long word beginning with S, “Checked the biopsy twice, it’s not cancer.”

“And it’s not an infection,” Foreman has his arms folded, “Gallium scan didn’t reveal anything.”

“So what hides from a Gallium scan?”

The team begins throwing ideas back and forth, and House takes this chance to sneak another peek at Wilson, who’s still determined to pretend he isn’t there. He manages to tune back in when he catches them all looking at him; waiting for his input, he realises.

“Sorry, what were you discussing?”

Foremans brows knit together, “We think it’s an infection in his heart.”

House nods, “Great. Echocardiogram for the heart and IV antibiotics for the infection.”

One by one, they file out the room. Last to go is Cameron, who shoots him a troubled glance, but otherwise leaves wordlessly - once alone, House gets up and limps to his office, and he smirks when he hears a magazine being closed and a chair being pushed back.

“I take it you didn’t talk to Julie last night?”

Wilson follows him in and stands by his desk, “No, because there was nothing to talk about.”

“Right, I forgot how you don’t believe that communication is important in a relationship.” He pops a Vicodin pill as he’s talking, and when he’s washed it down with some coffee, he looks Wilson over with a skeptical expression on his face, “You didn’t come in here because you were lonely. You’ve been thinking about something.”

The hint of a flush comes on Wilsons cheeks and he looks straight at House, deciding to start slow….though his tone of voice’s firm, “Let’s say you’re right.”

House almost chokes on his coffee, “You’re saying I’m right?”

“No. _Let’s_ say.”

“Sorry, I don’t sleep with married men.”

Wilson watches him throw himself in his chair, putting out a foot to spin around so his back’s facing him. When he doesn’t turn, he huffs in irritation, “Do you want to go out to dinner tonight? I’ll pick you up at 7.”

That catches his attention; the chair comes around and House’s frowning at him, “You haven’t even talked to Julie about your feelings for me, and you’re already asking me out to dinner?” He puts his cane on the desk, “It’s like you get a thrill out of cheating on your wives.”

Wilsons forehead wrinkles, “So you’re saying I _shouldn’t_ break up with her?”

“I’m _saying_ you should get better at communicating with her. Reason why your marriages have never worked out. It’s a miracle you managed to get a third wife.”

“Is this what counselling is? I didn’t realise I’d booked a session today.”

House grabs his cane and drags himself up with a sigh, “Look, if you want to be more open with her, then tell her about your sudden infatuation for me. She’ll either take it well or not, but at least you were honest.”

At this, Wilson starts shuffling his feet, and House catches on, “Unless….you _don’t_ want to.” Wilson gets that sheepish look on his face again, and it all just seems to fall into place; House rolls his eyes, “It’s like having affairs turns you on. And I don’t mean that in a sexy way.”

Wilson throws his hands out, “Didn’t you ever feel compelled to cheat on Stacy? You know, have a fling on the side?”

“No, because we had a healthy relationship.” He smiles as he twirls his cane, “That’s the great thing about hookers; no contract, no obligations or rules….”

“But you don’t get a real relationship out of it.” Houses smile slowly falls, “Didn’t you want to be with someone after her?”

“You know I’m not like you in any way, right? I don’t...have a yearning to cheat on my wives - “

“ - Which is why you use sex to fill the hole in your heart.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Wilson shakes his head, “Anyway, you were saying something about taking me out to dinner?” He looks up in surprise as the smile begins coming back, “Unless you...wanted to start being true to your wedding vows…”

Wilson hesitates as Houses words go through his head, “You...want me to cheat on her?”

House shrugs casually, but he resists the urge to grin when he sees Wilsons eyes practically light up, “Judging from your face at the mere mention of going behind your wife's back to have a dinner date with me, I think a marriage counsellor gives better advice than I do. Either that, or you really didn’t listen to a word I said.”

He’s about to reply when Chase comes in and Houses attention switches immediately as he walks up to the desk.

“Kid’s echo was normal, no sign of any vegetations on the heart valves.”

There’s a beat, and House realises that Wilson’s still in the room...watching them. Chase glances between them and it’s as if all the pride he’d felt before halts in its tracks. He points a finger at Wilson then House.

“Am I...interrupting something here…?”

Wilsons eyes dart to House, “No, we...we were done.” He shoves his hands in his pockets as he backtracks to the door, “I need to get back to work.”

They both watch him leave, and Chase turns to House with a wry smile...but he easily doesn’t miss House following Wilson down the hall, and his smile seems to grow in amusement.

When he’s out of sight, Houses gaze snaps to him, “What?”

“Nothing, um what - what’d he want?”

“He wanted to know how many hookers I’m having over tonight. Been thinking about an orgy party, wanna join?”

Chase frowns, “The antibiotics aren’t doing anything.”

“So double the dosage.”

“...You know that’ll box his kidneys, right?” At once, House seems to phase out and he snaps his fingers in his face, “Did you hear me?”

House pushes his hand away, “Sorry, I was too busy thinking about what that would look like.” He pauses, “Yeah, you’re right. Save the kidney. The guy we transplant it into will be grateful.”

“Also, I….” He’s somewhere else again. Chase snaps his fingers for a second time, “House!” He puts his hand to his side before House can move it away, “You know, if you like Wilson, you can just talk to him.”

“And if you want to be invited to the party so badly, you can just ask.”

Chase laughs snidely, “I’m serious! Whatever you and him talked about, it was clearly about your feelings for him. Or lack thereof.”

House starts spinning his cane again, “I’m worried about him, as a good friend should be.”

“Why, is he okay?”

House looks past him to his door, as if Wilson’s standing right there in the middle of the hallway, “Yeah, but his marriage isn’t.”

* * *

7pm comes too soon.

Moonlight streams in from the windows onto the teams faces, who’re having a takeout dinner from the chinese place across from the Hospital. They’re talking about how House’s been acting these last couple days, and after Chase has taken a bite of chicken, he decides to bring up his weird behaviour when he went to see him about the patients test results.

“He kept tuning out when I was telling him about the kid, like he was thinking about something else.” Foreman and Cameron exchange glances, “That’s weird, right? I mean, he’s usually so interested in the cases, but….” His voice trails off as he tries to grab a bunch of noodles with his chopsticks.

Foreman nods, “Actually, now that you mention it, Wilson was acting a little strange yesterday too.”

“How’d you mean?” Cameron has her sticks poised in the air.

“I was asking him about House and...he said he didn’t know what was going on with him, but…” He looks at them both, “I think he was lying.”

Chase takes a bite of a prawn, “Why?”

“You know how Houses hand was taped up?” They both nod. “Yeah, well, he told me he did it himself.”

“So?”

“ _So_ , I think something happened in that exam room.”

Cameron snorts, “Like what?”

Foreman shrugs, but doesn’t reply, and Chases eyes go wide, “You don’t think - “

“What? No!” Cameron stifles a smile, “No way, they’d be a lot more ashamed if something like that went on.”

Chase smiles and nudges her, “Or proud.” The two men laugh but Cameron just rolls her eyes.

“Come on, you guys. Wilson’s married. He wouldn’t do that to his wife.”

“He’s been through two divorces, Cameron.” Foreman nods across from her. “Maybe Wilson’s just an unfaithful guy.”

Cameron picks up her chopsticks and begins moving them around her food, “Well, House should know better anyway.”

“House sleeps with hookers almost every night. What does he know about being faithful?”

Chase chuckles along with him, but Cameron’s honestly had enough. What started out as hilarious is just making her think seriously about her boss and she can’t even look at her food anymore - now she has this to mull over. She looks at the two, and doesn’t speak until their laughter’s died down,

“Well, he doesn’t feel anything for them. So maybe he doesn’t think about it since he’s not in a real relationship with any of them.” Chase frowns at her. “I mean, he had a girlfriend for 5 years, and from what we know, he didn’t cheat on her, so he knows to stay true to someone he does actually have feelings for.”

They’re both quiet, until Foreman opens his mouth, “Uh, since when did this turn into us discussing Houses outlook on morality? He doesn’t care about the consequences, as long as it benefits him.”

“You can’t believe House is that self-centered?”

Chase smiles through a mouthful of vegetables, “Face it, Cameron, all your opinions of him being a tosser were thrown out the window when you started to fall for him.”

Camerons cheeks go pink, “I’m just saying what I believe - “

“Why don’t you just ask him tomorrow? See if you’re right.”

“Ask him what, if he’s a jerk who has no moral compass whatsoever when it comes to being in a relationship?”

Foreman cuts in, using his soft voice again, “No, ask him what he feels about the hookers he takes home on a weekly basis. About his take on Wilsons marriages.” He glances at Chase, “And if you do go through with it but ask him about what him and Wilson’re up to instead, then you owe Chase and I 20 bucks. Each.”

“What? Since when did this become a bet?”

“Since now.” Cameron looks at them both, dumbfounded. “If you ask him about his feelings in general, then you have a bias against him, but since you know nothing about him and Wilson, then you should have no problem bringing that up.”

Chase pushes his container away, “Works for me.”

Cameron goes silent as she processes this, and the guys hold out their hands when she finally nods, “20 bucks each you said?” They nod and she shakes in agreement, before gradually digging back in to her dinner. Another silence passes over the room, cut only by Cameron eating, when Chase promptly looks around,

“Hey, where _is_ House?”

Foreman juts a thumb to the door, “He said he was clocking out for the night an hour ago.”

Chase frowns, “But it’s only 7. Doesn’t he usually stay later?”

“Maybe he had a hooker coming over.”

“...Or maybe…”

When Cameron looks up at him in frustration, the two almost double over in laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

“You got a _salad_? Out of everything on the menu, you got something you can just make from scratch at home?”

Wilson smiles as he pokes a piece of cucumber with his fork, “You definitely can’t get this dressing anywhere local. And you can make all of the food they have here at home.”

House begins cutting up a large chunk of steak that’s been drenched in some weird mushroom gravy, “Yeah, but at least it costs a lot less than what these meals do.”

“Look, if it’s money you’re worried about - “

“Seriously? Geez, Wilson, I have at least 10 hookers at my place a week. You’re the one who’s paying anyway.”

Wilson sighs. He stabs a cherry tomato, and watches House fill a glass with water from the corner of his eye, “You didn’t have to accept my offer, you know.”

House puts the bottle down, “Relax. If anything, I’m helping you run your marriage into the ground. Well, as much as it can be. I’m sure you still not talking to her didn’t go to waste.”

“...Thanks, House.”

They’re both quiet as they dig into their dishes. Around them, the air’s filled with mindless babble from couples and a child’s fussing over how her fries aren’t salty enough a few tables from their own. House can hear the parents trying to coax her into eating them regardless, and it’s making him want to go over there and deal with it himself.

But what stops him is the sound of cutlery being placed down across from him, and he pushes a piece of potato onto his fork along with some lettuce to avoid a question he knows is already brewing at the front of Wilsons mind.

As predicted, when House forces himself to look up, he sees Wilson’s trying and failing to word his ask accordingly, and he picks up his glass to push towards him, “We haven’t got all night, Wilson.”

Wilson’s momentarily stunned, but as House takes a sip of water, he somehow manages to get it out, even if he can’t look him in the eye right away, “How...do you feel about me?”

Houses hand stills from putting it next to his plate, “Do you want the short answer or the sentimental answer?”

“I mean, I know how you feel about me, but...do you….”

As Wilson makes the attempt to avoid his stare, House instantly gets the message and he finally puts the glass down. A strange feeling grips his chest, and with a start, he registers it as guilt at what he’s been doing this entire time.

Has he really just been toying with the guy?

Before House can respond, Wilson opens his mouth with another ask, and his face contorts as if realising something, “Why did you agree to go out with me tonight? You don’t actively try to wreck my marriages, that’s on me. And playing with my relationships was never a game for you, you were always respectful and - and backed off when I found someone. Sure, you had your say when Sam broke up with me, but you were there to comfort me and you even…” He chokes out a laugh, “You even talked to her about how she treated me and….and…..”

Again, he leaves his sentence unfinished, and House is watching him closely as he drinks this all in. A very heavy and (soon) uncomfortable silence just crashes on them both and Wilson can’t look at House at all as he silently goes through his ramblings while staring at his dinner.

He can’t wait anymore.

House takes a deep breath, and starts speaking in a low voice, “I don’t know how I feel about you, Wilson. I thought I knew, but…” He slowly releases it, and Wilson finally meets his eyes, “You’re right, I treat everything like it’s a game...even your feelings for me, and I know that’s wrong and I’m sorry, I….” He glances down and quickly finds himself focusing on his now cold steak, “I think therapists have some crazy ideas about how we use humour to cover up how we really feel when we’re scared or confused or we don’t want to face the reality of something we know we can’t control.”

“And...that’s how you feel about this? Us having dinner together?”

House swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, and holds Wilsons gaze. His voice is...right now, a bizarre comfort in his thought process, and if he has to be truly honest, it’s probably the only thing keeping him grounded in the moment.

But..he still can’t help himself.

“Does your wife know where you are? Or did you keep her in the dark about that too?”

Wilsons face goes hard in an instant, and he pushes his plate away violently before standing, “You’re a real bastard, House.”

House watches him practically storm to the toilets, and for a moment, he sits and just lets the couples conversations wash around him. Soon, he rests his elbows on the table, putting his head in his hands with a muffled groan, “What am I doing?” As he scrubs his hand over his eyes, they immediately land on Wilsons too expensive salad - the lettuce is already growing soggy, and there’re only 3 pieces of pepper left - it’s almost as sad as House feels. Dropping his hands by his sides, he reaches out for his cane, and roughly pushes himself up to limp to the toilets.

He finds Wilson furiously scrubbing his hands at the furthest sink from the door.

There’s a brief relief at still finding him here, but also worry at what exactly he’s walked into with Wilson being in such a state that he brought on. Wilson doesn’t even acknowledge his presence, just makes sure to get every bubble of soap on each finger crevice. House busies himself looking around, and he has to admit, it’s a pretty fancy restroom; the soaps are even shaped like mermaids. Not braless, unfortunately.

Though Wilson’s forcing himself to pretend House isn’t here, he still limps more into the room, and the end of his cane echoes against the tiled floor. In his own way, he attempts to ease the tension with a throwaway joke,

“Hope the guy who paid you was generous enough to give you a tip. And no I’m not talking about money.”

“Get out, House.”

He hears the dejection in his voice immediately.

House ignores the stabbing guilt in his body and has his own voice take on an edge, “I can’t leave you like this. I...can’t leave you hating me.”

Wilson turns on him, then, the tap still running, and his eyes are stained red. His face is pained, like he hasn’t been able to switch his brain off, and his tie has been tied and re-tied so many times that he’s somehow made a knot at the bottom of it, “This isn’t about you. This was never about you. I can’t believe I let myself just...play along with this. I should’ve been able to handle this on my own, but I had to come to you for advice, because you’re such a good friend. Or that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for years.” He wipes a hand down his cheek and it leaves a trail of bubbles on his skin, “The truth is, House, you’re just a selfish jerk who can’t stand seeing other people happy, because you haven’t been happy for years, and if that means trying to tear down my third marriage, then congratulations, you can add that to your short list of accomplishments.”

Without a single word, and not caring whether or not Wilson wants him gone, House slowly limps to the sink Wilson’s standing near and turns the tap off.

He doesn’t turn to face him, but he can see his pathetic figure in the mirror. From this close, he can note how pristine his suit is and how he even put a little gell in his hair. As much as he wants to bowl over laughing at just how much time Wilson put into his appearance for him out of all people. . .he knows now isn’t the time.

“You’re wrong by the way.” House watches Wilson go over to the paper towel dispenser and rip off a couple pieces. Right now, he doesn’t have the energy to wonder if he’s still ignoring his presence or has had enough of dealing with him tonight. So he continues, not really paying attention to what Wilson will do next, “After my breakup with Stacy….” Wilson shakes his head, a clear cut ‘i don’t fucking believe this’ smile on his face as he balls the towels in his hand, “I was so miserable that I thought I wouldn’t find anyone again. But I did.”

Wilson visibly tenses up, but still House carries on, “As strange as it sounds, Wilson, we’re a couple. We fight a lot, more than friends do. You spend all your time with me when you should’ve been with your wives, and as much as we can’t stand to be around each-other, we still keep coming back. Even my team is starting to suspect something. Probably gossipping about us as we speak.”

There’s a long pause, and Wilson tosses the paper ball in the trash, but still doesn’t turn around. House sighs, “Whatever you need to do to get past this - take a break, cut off the friendship entirely, punch me in the face - just get it over with.”

Wilson’s silent for a very long minute, and after a few seconds, House takes this as his part to leave him be. The quiet thunk of his cane is the only sound in the room, and as he’s about to open the door, he feels a warm hand on his arm.

Strange. He hadn’t even heard Wilsons footsteps.

House stills at his touch, but Wilson doesn’t do anything more than rest his hand there, as if the fabric is enough to put him at ease in such a strained moment. A surge of something charges through him at hearing Wilsons breath become short, like he’s terrified of what he’s just done, and he lets his body relax, to let him know that it’s okay to...cross this line. In an instant, he feels Wilson almost deflate behind him, and he lets out a steady breath before turning to face him, Wilsons hand moving up his arm to pause at his shoulder.

His eyes’re wet, and there’s still a very faint flicker of hatred behind them, but House doesn’t focus on that for long - if he’s learnt anything from Wilson, it’s that sometimes all he needs to do is look at his face to get an idea of what he’s really feeling.

And when it clicks, he feels Wilson trail his fingers to the nape of his neck, and bring him into a hard kiss that House practically melts into.

Whatever Wilson needs to get out of his system, he does so in the kiss; in seconds, his other hand’s holding his arm, and Houses cane clatters loudly to the floor, his own hands fumbling to get Wilsons jacket off. He smells so strongly of cheap soap that it almost makes House want to push him off, but when he grabs his tie to deepen the kiss, the urge vanishes in a flash.

They move around the bathroom, occasionally bumping into the taps and the edges of sinks, but otherwise neither break away from each-other; Wilsons jacket falls to the ground, and House threads his fingers through his hair as he’s backed into the towel dispenser, which elicits a groan from his lips. In an instant, Wilson’s moved down to his neck, and he closes his eyes when he feels the skin just below his ear being softly bitten.

Before he can get completely lost, however, something else socks him in the face and he gently tries to get Wilson to stop.

“Wilson…”

At his name, Wilson slows his movements and trails his mouth back up to his jaw, “Yeah?”

House sighs and tilts his head up so Wilson can get the idea, and he instantly backs off in surprise, “What’s wrong?”

“I…” House waits for Wilson to take his jacket from the floor and hook it behind his back, “I can’t do this. You can’t do this to Julie. She has a right to know what’s going on.” Wilson stares at him, but House just pushes past him. As much as he wants to simply give in, he knows he can’t - Wilson needs to play his part too.

He’s just picked up his cane when a hand’s on his arm again, and he turns to say his name, but before he can get a syllable out, he’s suddenly knocked back against a sink with his jaw throbbing in pain.

Wilson’s breathing hard, and he’s wearing his jacket again. His hand’s curled into a fist which unfurls as he watches House compose himself, but he doesn’t have time to say anything to him before he’s given his own punch that has him falling to the ground. This time House catches his lip, and he has blood slowly dripping onto his chin. He puts his fingertips to his mouth and stares up at House in utter shock, but he’s already at the door, panting.

“I know you told Julie you’d be working late. It’s the same line you fed to Bonnie when you started seeing her behind her back.” House winces as he touches his jaw. “I’m not letting this become a pattern, Wilson. You need to be honest with her if you really want this.”

With that, he finally leaves the bathroom and heads outside to hail a taxi back to Baker Street. 


	4. Chapter 4

The team’ve been sitting in the diagnostics room for the last half hour, and still there’s been a no show of House. Chase goes through his notes for a third time and Foreman starts tapping his pen against the table, which rapidly gets under Camerons skin.

“Would you _stop_ that?"

Foreman looks at her with a short laugh, “Stop what?”

Cameron throws a hand out, “Tapping your pen. It’s...annoying.”

He shares a glance with Chase, who shrugs at him and he lets the pen roll onto his file but frowns when he sees Cameron sink into her seat, “You okay, Cameron?”

“I’m just...worried about House. He’s not always this late for work, and if he is, he usually let’s us know why or leaves us a note.”

Chase shuts his file and pushes it to the side, “Maybe he’s still trying to get Wilson out of his bed.”

She rolls her eyes as Foreman snorts with laughter, “Oh yeah, like there can’t be any other explanation. Anyway, I passed Wilson in the hall this morning.”

“How’d he look?”

“I don’t know, tired? He also had a cut on his lip.”

When Chase raises an eyebrow at Foreman, Camerons mouth falls open, “You can’t be serious!”

Chase stares at her, “Well, think about it, Cameron! House gets his hand fixed up by Wilson, then for the rest of the day, he’s stuck in this weird daze, and Foreman said Wilson was acting strange yesterday too. When I went to talk to talk to House about the patient, he kept looking at Wilson as he left the room, and last night, House left early, which he _never_ does! And now House hasn’t shown up for work in almost an hour, meanwhile Wilson’s wandering the halls ‘looking tired’. I’m telling you, something’s going on with those two.”

“Well, why isn’t House saying anything to us?”

“Maybe he’s embarrassed?” When Foreman gives him a look, he smiles, “What? Wilson’s his best friend. It just _screams_ predictable. And none of us have actually known House to feel any sort of love for anyone, much less romantic love.”

Cameron goes to argue her point, but there’s a sudden noise behind her and she turns to see House limp into the room holding a styrofoam cup in his other hand. Her stomach turns when she notes that he looks just as tired as Wilson does, and as he rounds the table to his seat, the light manages to catch a dark red shiner on the edge of his jaw. He’s also wearing a baby blue turtleneck under his jacket, which Chase begins to laugh at as House puts his cup on the table to take his backpack off.

“Sorry I’m late. My ears were burning. Hope you were saying nice things about me.”

He hangs it on a hook then takes his seat, and Chase sits up in his chair to get a better look, “What are you _wearing_? Next to him, Foreman tries hard not to smile but Cameron just ignores them. She’s too focused on his bruise to care about his attire for the day.

House frowns, “I’m trying to bring this back in fashion. Turtlenecks just aren’t appreciated enough in this society.” He puts the cup to his mouth and waves a hand towards Foreman, who hunches over his file and begins to read, and like that, the tension’s gone from the room,

“18 year old kid collapsed from a heart attack in the middle of his job. His catheter was clean and the echo showed no functional abnormalities.”

House nods to him, “What’s his job?”

“Uh…” Foreman goes down the paper a bit, “He works at Chuck E Cheese.”

“He’s not the chipmunk, is he? Cause I would _hate_ to be that guy.”

“No, he’s just a waiter. Why is that important?" 

“I’m thinking of working there. Always wondered what it’s like having kids scream in your face and smelling like old pizza when you get home later. Then again, maybe I’m thinking of a cafeteria lady…

Foreman shakes his head, and Cameron decides to cut in, “Fatigue, night sweats, weight loss preceded the heart attack. He’s only 18 and an orphan, as well as a single father of two." 

House reaches over to steal Chases file, and as he reads it through, a wide grin appears on his face, “Party of five! Powerful stuff. The OC of its day. Stress explains everything except the itchy feet.” 

“Athlete's foot covers that. Waiters work twelve hours a day in old sneakers.”

“Hmm. Good idea. Ignore the symptoms. Makes your job easy.”

Cameron sighs in exasperation, “I’m not ignoring the symptom, I’m explaining it.”

House drops the cup on the table and seems to dismiss her as he turns to Foreman, who’s throwing out his own theory. Cameron soon tunes out, still drawn to the mysterious mark on his face, and she doesn’t came back until she hears the faint sound of a pen being moved about on paper; it’s House, she realises, writing something down on an envelope.

She leans forward, her brows furrowed, but House sees and blocks her view with his arm. After a couple seconds, he moves away and something comes to Camerons mind.

“You can’t know what’s wrong with him after a 30 second perusal of his file.” She watches him stand and limp over to his whiteboard, and he flashes her a grin over his shoulder.

“I hope I can. Each of you get one test and the clock runs until lunch. If I'm right, he'll still be alive. If I'm wrong, it's a very cruel game.” Using a magnetic paperclip, he sticks the paper on the board and moves back to show the team he’s written something on the front, which makes the guys smile, but Cameron’s already standing with her file in hand.

The two take theirs and swiftly leave the room, but not before Chase gives her a wink and with that, they go, already heading for the elevator. House is about to go to his office, but when he realises Cameron’s still present, he stops at his door, “You’re not getting a cheat sheet.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and just waltzes into his office, practically ignoring her. After a beat, Cameron follows and is almost hit with the door had she not had her hand out in time; despite it, House still doesn’t regard her and she clears her throat, causing him to finally look up from digging around in his drawer for a Vicodin bottle. 

“I’m not sleeping with you either.”

Cameron purses her lips and is about to reply, but Houses eyes widen in ‘realisation’, “Oh I know.” He points at her with the bottle in his fingers, then to the bruise, then laughs, “You should see the other guy.”  

She sighs, “Where were you last night, House?”

He frowns as he tips a pill in his palm, “Ask Chase, he might have an idea. There was some mention of a party as I recall…” He drops it in his mouth, and Cameron makes a face as he dry swallows the pill.

She puts her file on his desk and sits in the chair across from his, turning a blind eye to his confused expression, “Seriously. You’ve been acting really strange for awhile - “

“A while is not two days. Try a different word choice next time - “

“And, well….” She closes up, hesitating to continue, but when she takes another look at the bruise again, she decides to go for it, “Chase and Foreman think it has something to do with….you and Wilson.”

House stares at her, “Dr. Cameron, I’m appalled! Telling on your colleagues? Surely they taught you better in medical school.”

“Is it? Be honest.” 

“Why, you going to put me on a polygraph test?”

She folds her hands together on her lap, “I’m worried about you. And I know that if it was urgent, you’d tell us, but…”

“But you wanted to get it from the horses mouth.” He finishes. Cameron nods and when she sees House take a deep breath, something strange bubbles inside her, and she leans slightly forward in her chair. He drops into his seat, puts his cane on the desk beside her folder, then takes the ball from its stand and begins tossing it up and down as he speaks, eyes on the ceiling,

“Wilson asked me out to dinner last night.”

Cameron frowns, “Like a date?”

House slowly exhales, catches the ball, “Exactly.” Throws it again.

“But he’s married.”

“Well, clearly that didn’t stop him.”

“Has he talked to his wife about this?”

He waits for the ball to fall in his hand before looking at her, “If you want the details, feel free to ask Wilson about it.”

Camerons eyes go wide, “No, sorry. I’ll shut up.”

He nods, then goes back to his game of tossing-and-catching, “He hasn’t, and he won’t.” The ball hits the ceiling and shoots back into his hand, but he doesn’t throw it again, “We had a fight in the bathroom. He punched me, I punched him.” That explained Wilsons cut lip. He puts the ball onto its stand, “So when I said you should see the other guy, I was serious.”

Cameron is quiet for a long time, and again, House doesn’t take much notice of her as he opens a different drawer for the tv remote. When she looks at him, there seems to be a concerned expression on her face, “House, you can’t do this.”

He finally finds it buried underneath a porn magazine, and turns to the tv, “I’m not a child anymore, Mom.” He switches it on and relaxes into the chair.

“What, so you’re just going to keep seeing Wilson? Continue to...ignore the fact that he has a wife at home who has no idea - “

House switches off the set, knowing he’s not going to be able to watch his show in peace unless he cuts in. He tosses the remote on the desk to face her, “What kind of person do you take me for, Cameron? This’s my best friend we’re talking about!” She narrows her eyes as he swipes the remote to point at the tv again, but when she doesn’t say anything, he stops and rolls his eyes, “I’m not going to _do_ anything else. It’s up to him whether or not he tells his wife what he’s been up to.”

“And if he doesn’t?" 

“Then…” He nods, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

They’re both silent as Houses attention rests on the tv, while Cameron’s brain is still trying to understand all of this. Before she leaves, however, a new question comes to the forefront of it and she takes her file in both hands to have something to hold, her voice gentle,

“How...do you expect this to end, House?” Though his body’s facing the set, his eyes clip to her and she sees him start to grow uneasy, “I mean, if Wilson does tell his wife, then she’ll leave him and….presumably, you’ll get your happily ever after. But...if he doesn’t - “

“Don’t you have a job to do?”

 Cameron stops, surprised he’s still listening to her, “I just want to make sure that - “

He presses a button to change the channel, and plays up checking his watch. Okay, maybe he isn’t, “Time’s running out, Cameron. You don’t want one of your male colleagues to win this one, do you?”

Cameron looks at him a little longer, but when it’s clear that he’s done with the conversation, she pushes her chair back and goes to the door. Once she’s a few steps away, House drops the remote on the table and reaches for his cane, resting his palms on the handle as he stares at the screen.

He’s surprised when he sees Cameron stood by the door from the corner of his eye, but he only glances at her, “Can’t you see I’m trying to watch my show here?”

She smiles warmly at him and opens the door, but doesn’t leave just yet, “According to Freud, and I’m paraphrasing here….” He slowly turns his head to her, lips pulled into a frown, “Instinct of love towards an object demands a mastery to obtain it, and if a person feels they can’t control the object or feel threatened by it, they act negatively toward it.”

He looks at her strangely, and his voice becomes soft, as if something’s just presented itself in his mind, “You’re saying I punched Wilson because I’m _scared_ he won’t leave his wife?”

Camerons frowns, confused, “You never take Freuds beliefs seriously.”

Houses gaze drops to the floor, and his voice is now impossibly quiet she almost misses what he says,

“I know.”


	5. Chapter 5

After about 20 minutes with no interruptions (not even from Cuddy. Strange), House switches the tv off and exits his office and makes his way down to the MRI room, where he finds the patients feet sticking out of the machine and lo and behold Foreman seated in the adjoining room, watching the results on the monitor closely. At the same time, he’s speaking into the mic to reassure him and as House passes him, he resists the urge to gently knock one of his feet with his cane to mess up the image. 

When the door opens, Foreman just glances his way and House smirks when he takes a look at the screen himself, right as it beeps, “Oh, you’re so cold.”

Foreman shakes his head as he sits beside him, propping his cane up against the table and says in a sing-song voice, “I’m not playing.” He goes to press the speaker button again but House interrupts him.

“What’s his name again?” He asks, pointing to the machine with his cane.

“ _ His name _ is Jack. It was in the file.” Foreman ignores him and opens the speaker, putting on a gentle voice, “Keep very still, Jack. This won’t take long.” 

He leans back in his chair and watches the screen, clicking twice to enhance a part of his leg, while House starts spinning his cane between his fingers. After a beat, he looks over at Foreman, “So, a little birdy told me that you and Chase think that Wilson and I play with each-others swords. And by birdy, I mean Cameron. And by swords, I mean our penises.” 

Foreman snorts, “That how she worded it?” 

“Why, you want the unedited version?”

He glances at him, ““We were just wondering where you were last night.” 

“And you and Chase just assumed it  _ had _ to do with Wilson?” Foreman sighs as he looks at the monitor again and House stops moving his cane around, “Why not a hooker? Or even better, why not  _ Cuddy _ and a hooker?”

“Well...you guys  _ have _ been acting pretty weird these last couple days…”

“That’s weird, I thought we were playing my game. Remember? The one I told you about this morning? The one that you’re currently involved in?” 

Foreman tears his gaze from the screen to rest on House, and his voice is firm, “Look, if you and Wilson are seeing each other, and I know it’s none of our business - “

House makes a face, “Apparently it is if you’re discussing it over dinner - “

“But I want to make sure you know what you’re doing.” House scoffs. “Wilson’s a married man, House.” 

“You don’t think I know that?”

Foreman looks at him evenly, and House rolls his eyes, “We’re not  _ doing _ anything, alright? So stop getting your panties in a wad.”

There’s a pause as Foreman goes back to the monitor, and House gets the odd feeling that he’s keeping something more from him as he sneaks a glance his way. When about 7 seconds’ve passed, he lets out a breath and waits for Foreman to lean to the microphone again before cutting him off, and practically jamming his finger on the button,

“How much dope do you smoke?” 

Jacks voice filters through the speaker, “Who’s that?”

Foreman pushes Houses hand away and puts his own finger on it, “My boss, ignore him.” 

House folds his arms, “Killjoy.” 

“It’s not his lungs, House.” 

“Never said it was.” Goes back to the mic again, much to Foremans chagrin, “What about cigarettes? How’d you quit? Gum? Patches? Hypnosis?”

A beat. Then his voice again, “I didn’t really quit. Just sorta lost a taste for it.”

House pretends to think that through, “Hm, interesting. Sounds like one of those symptom thingies.” 

He finally lets his finger off the button and turns to Foreman again, who’s frowning at him, “Cameron passed Wilson in the hallway this morning. Said he looked tired and had a cut lip.” He gestures to his face. “Wanna tell me how you got the bruise?” 

House nods to the monitor, “Aren’t we already on a case?” 

“House.” 

“Wow, you really  _ have _ been talking to Cameron.” When Foreman doesn’t waver, House pretends to cave, “Fine. The sex might’ve gotten a little rough.”

Foremans eyes narrow and House knows that he has to let something on, “Well, if you’re giving me  _ that _ look…” He sighs heavily, and Foreman isn’t sure if he’s really contemplating his words or making a show to be dramatic, “Wilson asked me out to dinner and….let’s just say I didn’t get any that night.” His sarcastic tone at the end tells Foreman it’s the latter and he raises a brow.

“You guys got in a fight?” 

House nods, “The bathrooms. He feels guilty that he can’t leave his wife, and so decided to take it out on me. I punched him back, told him to make up his mind, then left.”

Foreman’s quiet for a bit, then tilts his head, “I could be wrong….but you sound a little too involved in Wilsons romantic life to just be a supportive friend.” House doesn’t reply, and he smiles knowingly, “You have feelings for him, don’t you? You want him to leave his wife.”

“His marriage is in shambles. They have this weird belief that if you don’t talk to each-other, it’ll somehow make the bond stronger. It  _ might _ be working,” He shrugs, “But how would I know? Stacy and I had perfect communication. Well, until she wanted the nurses to chop off my leg while I was in that coma.”

“Uh huh…”

House stops speaking for a moment, and he has a quick sense of dejavu with Cameron when he sees Foreman isn’t buying this at all. Grabbing his cane, he hauls himself up and limps to his chair, watching the screen for a moment before continuing, and like with Cameron, his voice is soft, “Wilsons happiness is more important to me than anything. Him needing to leave his wife isn’t because I want to get him in my pants, but if that’s what helps you and Chase sleep at night, then you can go ahead and hold onto that.” He gestures to the screen, “You’re freezing cold by the way.”

With that, he pushes the door open, but Foremans voice stops him from leaving, “What’d Cameron say?”

He glances at the floor, then turns to meet his eyes, “She thinks I’m scared he’ll stay with her.”

“And are you?”

Houses gaze drops and he brushes Foreman off completely as he limps out the room. But when he gets to Jack, he ‘accidentally’ knocks his cane against one of his feet, and the movement has him jerk in surprise, making the image on the monitor blurry.

* * *

 

He runs into Cuddy in the clinic, who’s going over some patients files at the desk. She’s wearing an extremely low-cut top, which’s the first thing House comments on,

“Didn’t know it was ‘bring your twins to work’ day.” 

Cuddy writes something down, then closes the folder and hands it to a nurse, “Shouldn’t you be attending to a patient somewhere?” 

House smiles, “Already got the kiddies on it.” He falls in step (well, as much as you can call it that) beside her as she walks to her office and she looks at him as they go through the doors.

“Why’re you here? You avoid the clinic like the plague.”

He stands in the middle of the room and watches her go to her desk, “I need a distraction. Ducklings won’t stop talking about my wild night out with Wilson, and it’s doing my head in.”

She sits down and grabs a pen from the holder with a grin, “Yeah, I saw him this morning. Lip seems a bit cut up. You get him in the middle of a bar fight?” 

“I think just a fight will suffice.” 

Like that, she stops writing and looks up at him in surprise, “Did something happen between you two?”

Houses voice gets whiny, “Oh, you’re not gonna get me to open up too, are you? I’ve already got Cameron breathing down my neck, and Foreman thinks he has me pinned. Wilson  _ is _ here, why don’t you talk to him?”

“Because I haven’t seen him  _ since _ this morning. Either he’s busy with his patients or has locked himself in his office.”

“Is there a third option?”

“Is there always a third option?”

House doesn’t reply and Cuddy sighs, “Look, whatever’s going on with you guys, I need it sorted out ASAP. The last thing this hospital needs is you starting fist fights with heads of departments.”

“I agree, I think it needs a bit more than a simple punch to the mouth. Maybe a kick to the groin will get some sense into them.”

“I take it Wilson did more damage than just giving you that bruise?” She briefly points to it with her pen and House frowns,

“Are you pointing at my face or my neck?”

“Why would I be poi….” Her question fades off and she drops the pen, her eyes widening as her voice lowers, “Wilson gave you a  _ hickey _ ?!” 

House glances at the ceiling, “Third base seemed a bit too soon. Anyway,  I’ve been thinking of saving my virginity for prom night.”

She scoffs and puts her hands out, “Okay, now I  _ really _ don’t know what’s going on with you two.”

Without a beat, he rattles off while Cuddy just stares at him in astonishment, “Wilson has this giant boy crush on me, and he isn’t going to leave his wife to follow his heart.” He pauses then nods, “Yeah, I think that’s the simplified edition. Now if you want the  _ complicated  _ one…”

“Hold on a minute, Wilson likes you? Like,  _ like likes _ you?”

“Thought the hickey would be a bit of a giveaway.”

“And I’m assuming he hasn’t told his wife.”

“Is that a question? Cause if it is, it’s a pretty stupid one.”

Cuddy picks up her pen again. She’s still trying to get her head around this, “And...you had a fight over it last night? Guessing Wilson punched first.”

House puts a hand out in disbelief, “In what world would  _ that _ happen?”

“Uh, the one where you say something to provoke him?”

“He hasn’t even told his wife!” 

“ _ And why would that bother you?  _ You’re the most self-centered person I know….” Again, her voice trails off and when House realises what she’s latched onto, he rolls his eyes, and her smile grows like she’s just won the damn lottery, “Unless...you  _ want _ him to leave her because you like him back!” He puts a hand over his face and she stands up, her face nearly glowing in triumph, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

His voice is beyond exasperated, “Why is it so hard for people to just accept that sometimes friends just want their friends to be happy?”

“Because, House,  _ friends _ don’t do what you and Wilson did last night unless there was something else going on! Wanting your friend to be happy is one thing. Putting your friends happiness above your own is another. But making out with your friend then punching them because they won’t leave their spouse is an entirely different ballgame.”

House lets Cuddys words slowly wash over him as he looks at the carpet and he hears her give a very long, drawn out, ‘i’m done with this’ sigh, making him look up at her. She’s back in her seat with her elbow on the desk, and her chin in hand, but her smile’s still slightly lifted and she has a funny glint in her eye,

“What did Cameron say when you told her what happened?”

House pretends to go back over it in his head, “She thinks I’m still going to see Wilson behind Julies back.”

“And Foreman?”

“He didn’t believe me when I said I just want him to be happy.”

Cuddy sees his face and nods almost to confirm it to herself, “You haven’t told Chase yet?”

House shrugs, “He’ll probably think the same thing as you three.”

“But you’re still going to?”

He moves to the door, “No harm in a fourth opinion.” As he’s about to go, Cuddy calls him back, a folder in her hand, 

“You still want to see a few patients?”

His mouth falls open in shock, “Cuddy, are you insane? I can’t afford a distraction right now. Got  _ way _ too much to think about!” And he disappears out the office, with Cuddy smiling after him. 


	6. Chapter 6

He heads up to Jacks hospital room, where he finds Chase tending to him and as Foreman had done, doesn’t pay a wink of attention to him. Jack, meanwhile, is frowning at him.

“Hey, I recognise you.”

House sits in the empty armchair by his bed, “Thanks, I get mistaken for Beyonce a lot. Think it’s the hair.”

“No, you’re that guy who was talking to me when I was getting my MRI.”

He holds out a hand, which Jack takes as he slowly smiles, “Dr. House. Pleasure to meet you.”

He pushes a hair from his eyes, “Are you my official doctor?”

House tilts his head to Chase, who’s busy assessing the monitor, “Currently, this pretty boy australian is. When he screws up, then I’ll be your official doctor.” Jacks smile vanishes and House looks around, “Where’re the tykes?”

He points to the far end of the room, where his siblings are curled up together sleeping soundly with open homework books on the floor. The sight makes House voice a quiet ‘Ah.’ and he turns back to their patient, “How’re the feet? They still itch?”

Jack glances at Chase, and he sees he’s watching the pair curiously, “Um, I- Is that important?”

“I don’t know.” He turns to Chase, “Is it?”

Chase avoids Jacks eyes, and House grins as he focuses back on him, “What kinda drugs you into?”

Jacks gaze falls on the two for a quick second, which House notices, “I did some before our parents died, but I’ve been clean since then.”

House looks at him, clearly not believing him, but Jack smiles reassuringly, “I’m raising two kids. It’d be pretty irresponsible, wouldn’t it?”

“But confiding it in eight year olds is okay.”

Jack shrugs, “If I'm open with them, then they'll be open with me.”

“Oh that’s a great philosophy. Kids don't lie because they have trust issues. They lie because they have something to hide.” He looks over at his brother, who’s arm is hanging off the edge of the chair, “I’ll bet you 10 bucks that he’s not really asleep.”

“House.”

Chases voice makes him turn around, “Kinda busy here.”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

As House reluctantly gets up, Chase spots Jacks alarmed expression and smiles, “It’s nothing to worry about, you’re fine.”

House glances back from going to the door, Chase in front, “That’s what they always say.”

When they stop outside the room, Chase suddenly rounds on him, a curious look on his face. Despite it, he’s still hesitant to say what’s on his mind, and House sighs, “I’m gonna make an assumption and say this isn’t about the kid.”

Chase puts his hands together, “Why didn’t you tell me what happened between you and Wilson last night?”

“Boy, if I knew you were so interested, I would’ve invited you along.”

“Cameron told me you two went on a date. You know he’s married, right?”

Houses face is sour, “Yeah, I’m a total idiot.”

“And you know he hasn’t told his wife - ?”

“ - And he won’t. Yes, we had a fight in the bathroom. No, I’m not going to do anything else, and no I haven’t talked to Wilson since last night. Are we done here or did you want me to take a lie detector test?”

Chases brows furrow, “How’d you know I was going to ask all that?”

“Because I’ve had this exact same conversation with 3 different people. Or I’m in the twilight zone. Whichever is easier for you to understand.”

“I thought you only told Cameron and Foreman.”

House motions behind himself, “And, just now, Cuddy. Her fantastic push up bra says hi.”

Chase frowns, “What does she think?”

“She has this odd idea that I’m going to lash out at the other department heads because Wilson won’t leave Julie.”

“...Are you?”

“Yeah, my killing spree starts in 5 minutes.”

Chase puts his hands in his pockets, and he looks steadily at House, “Seriously, what else happened at the restaurant?”

“Besides them running out of garlic bread?”

“I mean between you and Wilson.” When House frowns at him, he smiles, “Come on, you’ve never worn a turtleneck since I’ve known you. Why the getup?”

“It was cold out.”

“No, it was sunny and warm.” House remains quiet and it doesn’t take long for Chase to realise. When he does, his smile widens, “You’re hiding a hickey under there, aren’t you?”

“Thought a puppy would be too obvious.”

Chases smile falls instantly, and he goes to say something, but before he’s able to, House sees movement from near them and he turns his head to glimpse Wilson at a nurses station, reading a patients file. Chase follows his gaze, and even from this distance, he can see just how worn out he looks; his hair’s slightly disheveled, and he’s hastily scribbling something inside the file. He steals a glance at House, who’s watching Wilson with his mouth partly open in surprise, but he doesn’t notice either of them as he walks off down the hall.

Still, House doesn’t tear his eyes away until Wilson turns a corner, and when they rest on Chase, his look is firm.

“Listen, I know you’ve probably heard this all day, but...I want to make sure you’re not stringing Wilson along. He’s a good guy, and yeah he might not have the best record when it comes to women, but….well, he really cares about you.” He hesitates again, “If he does leave his wife to be with you, and you haven’t returned his feelings this entire time, then...I don’t think Wilson deserves you as a friend.”

For a moment, House is just stunned into silence. While he can see where Chase (and everyone else) is coming from, it still spins him to know that this is truly how the people he works with think of him, and realising they wouldn’t even consider him to hold any ounce of love or consideration for his best friend rings like a real punch to the stomach. Suddenly, his jokes feel hollow and a solid weight settles on his conscious; even he at first hadn’t had a strong stance on how he felt for Wilson, but coming to the understanding of nobody believing it could ever be possible is just...astounding.

Houses eyes trail the ground. He can’t even look him in the face, “Don’t you have a patient to deal with?” Without another word, he limps past him and down the hall to the elevators, his mind suddenly in a haze. But he’s stopped short when he gets halfway.

“He loves you.”

For once, House notices how empty the area they’re standing in is, and he feels himself relax just the smallest amount. At Chases words, a flash of last night creeps into his mind, and he stares ahead, already feeling his fingers reaching into his pocket for the Vicodin bottle. After popping the cap, he drops a pill into his hand and tosses it back, his voice low.

“...I know.”

He doesn’t swallow it until he gets in the elevator.

* * *

 

His leg is cramping badly by the time he gets to the fourth floor.

He goes to the diagnostics office first, where he takes down the envelope and stuffs it in his pocket, before heading out onto the balcony and collapsing against the brick wall. His cane clatters on the ground, but he doesn’t bother picking it up and just stays there, his hand fumbling for the Vicodin bottle again. Another pill’s slipped into his mouth, dry swallowed, and a groan’s released from his lips as a cloud begins to cover the sun behind him and he’s bathed in shadow.

As he tries to catch his bearings, he makes the fatal mistake of turning his head to Wilsons office, and sighs when he sees he’s sat on the sofa speaking to a patient. For a few beats, he just let himself watch them, not really wondering if Wilson will suddenly glance up and notice him but wondering what he’s telling the young girl; his face is contorted in sorrow, as it usually is, and his eyes are carefully avoiding hers. It’s only when he takes her hand and looks right at her, does House know exactly what the diagnosis is.

He looks away when her head lowers and her body starts shaking uncontrollably, and he fights down the urge to go see him...or at least toss a few stones at his door. Though Wilson does this all the time, he knows that what happened last night is still going through his head, and his messy hair from before is a hard indicator that he definitely didn’t get enough sleep afterwards. Same as himself.

Eventually, House picks up his cane and pushes himself to stand, ignoring the receding pain in his leg as he limps back to his office where he scrambles through a drawer to find his last remaining full Vicodin bottle. After throwing the empty one in the trash, he drops himself in his chair and decides to watch tv, in hope to dull the guilt fallen on his shoulders.

His team don’t show up for another half hour, and in that time, House’s managed to go through 3 episodes of the OC and 4 more Vicodin pills. Chase has a test sheet in hand, which he thrusts towards House, his voice having an edge to it from their ‘chat’ earlier,

“Found this in the lab. Someone, and I’m assuming you, must’ve ordered an extra test for Hepatitis A. Apparently he’s positive.”

  
House grabs the paper and goes through it as Cameron looks at Chase in astonishment, “He has Hep A?

Meanwhile, Foreman’s frowning at their boss, “That doesn’t explain the heart attack.”

He passes it back to Chase, who’s practically glaring at him, and folds his hands on his lap, still watching his show, “No, but persistent vomiting does, while a sudden distaste for nicotine and itchy feet explains the Hep A.”

“So I was right?”

Houses eyes cut to Chase, “Half right. More thinking and less talking probably would’ve gotten you the money pot.”

Cameron and Foreman exchange glances, but Chase drops the paper back on his desk. After a moment, Cameron speaks up, “What was in the envelope?”

Without looking at any of them, House takes the crushed envelope from his pocket and holds it out. A few seconds pass before Cameron reaches for it and the two men look over her shoulder as she opens it and reads.

House nods to Foreman, “Go pump IVIG into the kid. Cure him and get him out of here.”

They all stare at him, Cameron looking more puzzled than the others, “How’d you know what tests we’d perform on him?”

“I looked into my crystal ball.” When none of them move, he finally looks at them, “Well?”

They all gradually scatter out the room and House spins his chair so the back’s facing the front door.

* * *

The ducklings find House on his balcony this time, staring out at the sunset with his cane resting on the brick beside him.

Foreman approaches him first, blocking his view of Wilsons office, “High PT and PTT in Jack's blood panel confirm a coagulopathy.”

House frowns, “So, we cured the Hep A and something else pops up. Interesting. What infections cause DIC?”

Cameron stands on his other side, “The restaurant's probably teeming with E. Coli, Eikenella and strep. Kids don't wash their hands between the potty and the party…”

Chase shrugs from behind him, “Or it’s a foodborne toxin. Jack eats at that cesspool everyday.”

Foreman glances at them both, “Kid's got tattoos, piercings and probably some nasty little girl loaned him the Hep-A. Could've also given him syphilis or gonorrhea.”

House smiles, one hand over the other, “Great. Chase, go back to that ‘cesspool’ and find the kids throwup. Foreman, do an LP. Cameron, test out whatever your terrible theory was.”

Once they’ve all gone inside, House looks over at Wilsons door, and he slowly smiles when he sees him missing. Sure his team’re in the elevators by now, he heads back in the building to go to the break room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, last chapter! c: 
> 
> I'm a little nervous about this one. Went over and over with how their argument'd go and finally decided on 'asshole House' instead of 'sympathetic House' - hope that was the right call...
> 
> Thanks for reading this, guys! Had a lot of fun writing it ❤️

As suspected, the place is totally empty except for Wilson playing foosball alone. There’s a box of open cheese crackers beside him which House snatches up, much to Wilsons surprise, and starts eating them right in front of him with a smile.

“Thought you were masturbating when I saw you in here. Good thing I was wrong, or that would’ve gotten really awkward.”

Wilson scores a goal, but just shows boredom from it and he starts speaking as he goes to grab the ball, “Look House, what we did last night... “

“If you brought condoms, you should’ve told me. Probably would’ve heightened your chance in us going all the way. Or would that’ve ruined the friendship?”

“It can’t happen again.”

House stops chewing and slowly puts the box back on the table as he stares at him, but Wilson puts a hand out, “Julie saw my lip, and asked me what happened and….she gave me no choice, House.” He pushes his hair back, “She already hates knowing how much time I spend with you. Think this was the nail in the coffin for her.”

Houses eyes’re wide, “You didn’t tell her we made out, did you?”

Wilson snorts, “Yes, cause that would’ve somehow saved the situation.” He shakes his head, “No, just that we had dinner together, then had a fight afterwards because you said something out of line. Which was true.”

A tense silence falls on the room and House goes to put the crackers in the cupboard as Wilson moves to the couch, his voice low, “She was on the phone to a divorce lawyer this morning.”

House gives up trying to find something in the back and opens the fridge, “Wow, she works fast.”

Wilson looks over at him, “You know, I get the feeling that you’re not taking this seriously.”

“Hey, it’s your marriage, not mine.” He grabs half a sandwich and takes a huge bite from it before closing the door, and Wilson laughs derisively.

“What…” As House comes around the sofa, something dawns on and he watches him in astonishment, “Did you- want this- did you plan for this to happen?” House doesn’t reply, just carries on eating, and he puts a hand over his eyes, “Oh my god…”

“What?” He speaks through a mouthful of turkey. “Relax. You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“You need to leave...right now, before I do something I might regret.”

House throws the crusts in a nearby bin and stands directly across from him, “Of course I didn’t plan this. I mean...I did, in a way. Didn’t expect you to be so truthful with her. It’s too bad you missed out the juicy parts. She would’ve loved to hear about the hickey - ”

“Do you have _any_ empathy at all, Greg?”

Houses body goes rigid, and he closes his mouth as he watches Wilson take a shuddering breath, before wiping his eyes and practically sneering at him, “I should’ve known you’d just...take advantage of this whole situation. You weren’t just trying to destroy my marriage, you wanted to make me miserable in the process so I would need to leave Julie.”

Somehow, through this, House finds his voice and he’s almost scowling at him, “That’s just your guilt talking.”

“No, House, it isn’t. You’ve been using me this entire time - god, you probably didn’t even mean a word of what you said last night.”

House doesn’t reply. He can’t. Wilson crumbling in front of him like this is almost suffocating to watch.

Wilson swallows and tries unsuccessfully to hold a few tears back, “Julie is leaving me! And you don’t have anything to say? No jokes, no smart ass remarks, not even a sorry?” His voice grates out the last word, but it seems to be his breaking point as he suddenly buries his face in his hands and chokes out a sob.

When House sees tears falling through the cracks in his fingers, his mouth instantly runs dry and he finds himself blinking back his own tears, “Wils - “

“Don’t.” Wilson wipes his face again, but he can’t look at him at all. For a moment, he manages to compose himself to get a response out and his voice is thick with emotion, “I know selflessness doesn’t come easy to you, but...this is probably the worst thing you’ve ever done. And...and I don’t think I can find it in me to forgive you.”

Houses gaze drops to the floor, and he limps to the cupboard, where he swipes the box of crackers. After a last glance back, he stuffs a handful in his mouth and leaves the room.

* * *

 

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. His team find him in his office to report back, where he’s sitting at his desk in the dark, eating out of the box while bouncing a rubber ball against the wall. Only Cameron is able to get him to talk; through a bit more trial and error, they finally crack down on what’s wrong with him - after a long surgery for a bone marrow transplant, Jack’s discharged from the hospital and him and his siblings end up catching a taxi home.

The door to Houses office opens, and he pauses from tossing ripped up pieces of cardboard into the bin, “Needed the box for my model race car. Crackers were good though.”

Cuddy stares at him, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

House turns, and he pouts when he notices she’s wearing a jacket, “Aw, you covered them up. Were they due for a nap?”

“I just talked to Wilson.” She stalks towards him, and for a second, House thinks she’s going to hit him with her handbag from how furious she sounds, “You knew how he felt about you, and you took advantage of him?”

“Funny, I thought I did that to everyone.”

“He’s your best friend!” He continues to shred more cardboard, and she sets her jaw, “House.”

“What?”

She reaches over to snatch the box from him, and he pretends to dust his hands off as she throws it in the bin, “Give me one reason to believe you’re capable of caring about another human being.”

House pulls himself up with his cane, already frowning, “I got Wilson to leave his wife.”

“And was it worth it?” She scoffs in bewilderment. “The guy is upset!”

“Of course he’s upset! He loved her!”

She throws up her hands, “Unbelievable.” House avoids her eyes, “So this was you just doing him a favour?”

“He was miserable! I had to do something.”

“And your meddling really did wonders, House. It’s amazing how - “

“ - When did I admit today that I’ve been screwing around with Wilson?”

Cuddy folds her arms, as if accepting the challenge and smiles as she goes through their conversation from this morning. As expected, she begins drawing a blank, and House nods with his own shit eating grin.

“Never, right? You all just assumed I was, but I never said it. Says a lot more about yourselves than it does me.”

She steps back as House rounds his desk and leans on the side of it. As he looks at her, he can almost feel the guilt falling from his shoulders and his entire body language changes, “Not even when I spoke to him earlier did I say it. Know why? Because it isn’t true.”

“I told Foreman that Wilsons happiness was more important than my own. Cameron deduced that I was scared he wouldn’t leave his wife. Both you and Chase figured out he’d given me a hickey last night, and if you know me well, and you do, you’d know that I wouldn’t have let that happen with anyone I don’t have any romantic feelings for...except if I was drunk, but we didn’t have a drop of alcohol that night. And yes, Wilson will tell you so.” Cuddy looks like she wants to sink into the floor at this point. “I accepted his dinner invite. I made out with him in the bathroom. Him hating his marriage wasn’t a reason for me to step in. It was his starry eyed crush on yours truly. He was going to stay with Julie no matter how miserable he got. So yes, to answer your question, I think I did do him a favor.”

Cuddy watches in a daze as House bends down to take back the shredded box, but just as the tips of his fingers touch a loose piece, she clears her throat and he looks at her,

“Have you told Wilson any of what you just told me?”

He glances past her at the door, “Where is he?”

She jerks her head behind her, the smile starting to bloom on her face again, “He left his office 4 minutes ago. Should still be in the parking lot if you limp fast enough.”

* * *

 

It’s a full moon tonight. Even though the air’s cool, by the time House gets down to the lot, his forehead’s beaded with sweat and he’s not far from keeling over from the immense shooting pain in his leg; an extremely painful reminder that he hasn’t taken a Vicodin pill since seeing the ducklings this afternoon; just his luck to leave the damn bottle on his desk. As he steps out, he leans against the cool doors of the elevator and eyes the remaining cars with what light he’s given; from a few feet away, he can see someone getting into theirs, but his head is blocking the light - even so, his silhouette is easy to recognise, and he starts forward, just about running to catch up with him.

“Wilson!”

Wilson turns at his name...and the movement is enough to have the light be shining behind him, so there’s a white glow around his body that makes him look like an almost ethereal being. (If he isn’t in such a hurry, House would stop to simply gape at how...striking the sight is.) When Wilson realises it’s just him and climbs into the drivers seat, he quickens his pace.

He slams a hand on the back window, alerting Wilson who has his fingers curled around the door handle, “House, what the hell…! ” He’s about to lay into him when he catches sight of him doubled over, his other hand gripping his leg with his face contorted in pain. In an instant, he’s by his side and putting his arm over his shoulder to help him to his seat, which House practically falls into with a relieved sigh. Wilson even takes his cane and lays it beside him.

Wilson kneels down to get a better look at him, and to Houses surprise, he raises a hand to gently squeeze his arm in reassurance as his eyes search him; ones that hold no anger towards him whatsoever, he realises.

His voice is soft with concern, “When was the last time you had a Vicodin?”

“Around 3. Left them in my office.”

Without a word, Wilson stands and goes round to the passengers seat, and House hears the glovebox being opened...then shut, before he comes back and passes over a full Vicodin bottle, “Here. I keep a few in my car for these types of situations.”

House holds it in his palm like it’s made of gold, and he smiles as Wilson kneels in front of him again, watching him twist open the cap and pop one of the pills in his mouth, “Thanks, James.”

Wilson smiles at the use of his first name, and carefully takes the bottle back to put in his jacket pocket, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Should work its magic pretty soon.”

They’re both silent as they let themselves take this moment in, but the quiet’s soon broken through by a bike speeding down the highway. Wilson turns his head to the sound, but House’s too focused on his face; he looks so different to the person who’d been in the breakroom earlier. There’s not a hint of tension in his body, his eyes are so alight, and there’s almost an impish grin tugging at his lips which makes him look a whole lot younger than he is. He can already see the cut at the corner of his mouth healing up.

In a flash, the grin slips away as he turns to him, and a loose hair catches on his forehead, “Listen, House…what you did to me...I can’t forgive you. If you were really my friend, you would’ve let me deal with this break up alone and let me handle my feelings for you in my own time. But you just...saw this whole thing as a puzzle that you had to solve. Did you...ever...consider what I was going through? At all?”

House swallows, already looking at the ground, “I knew you felt guilty. Reason why I went on that date with you.” Wilson frowns, “I thought that...if you realised you loved me more then you’d leave her.”

He blinks at him, “And then what? Just continue to be miserable when I found out you were messing with me the whole time?”

“...No.” House brings his gaze up to rest on him, and he’s smiling warmly, “Wilson, there’s something I need to tell you.”

 

 

 


End file.
